Before he could stop himself, his gaze drifted back down to her mouth and unbidden desire resurfaced in his heart. There was probably a reasonable explanation for his segregation, but their isolation tested the limits of propriety. This woman may be a sister, however youthful her appearance, she was obviously old enough to have taken her vows, but he was an outsider. “Surely they wouldn’t allow a sister to remain alone in the presence of a strange man?”

“Why not?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. The gesture was all at once innocent and impishly wicked. “They say you are a man of honor.” She touched the white stallion emblazoned upon his shield. “They say that this means it is so.” She met his eyes. “Are they wrong?”

Brant’s heart swelled with pride as he looked at the stallion on his shield. It stood for everything he believed in, everything he fought for, held dear and would die to uphold. Honor, justice, duty. He met her gaze. “No, they are not wrong.”